


Real Estate Agents of Chaos

by Lieutenant_Kader (geekstar)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, One-Shot, Simmons and Kaikaina being snarky sibling-in-laws, The Squad Plot To Murder Racists For Fun And Profit, White Supremacists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekstar/pseuds/Lieutenant_Kader
Summary: Simmons and the Grif siblings become real estate agents of justice. Also for profit. Also for fun. Simmons is a little bit murderous, but it's cool.Inspired by the PSA "Unreal Estate" because it was extremely good.





	Real Estate Agents of Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I desperately need to get back to my longer fics but I just wanted to write something fun for the Real Estate PSA that just came out.

Simmons loops and tightens the maroon tie around his neck and adjusts with an awkward shimmy, lifting his chin and flattening it down over the buttons of his shirt. He does this while giving himself a death glare in the mirror, sweat droplets already starting to form on his brow.

Whether it was from the heat of the lava outside the inflammable patio deck, or from the nerves, he couldn’t say. Oh, yes he could, it was definitely both.

“Inflammable as in, the patio is _extremely_ flammable, right?” Simmons says to Kai, wandering into the room and dropping a few pamphlets on the side table.

She scoffs, standing at the mirror next to him, vogueing a bit in a classy real estate suit, skirt tight above the knees. She's chewing gum obnoxiously. “Yeah, but as far as the clients are concerned, inflammable as in _non_ ,” she says.

“I’m admittedly impressed with your usage of a historically confusing prefix as a weapon,” Simmons admits, turning his attention back to the tie he is convinced is lopsided, or not tight enough, or too tight. Maybe if he just tightens it enough to choke himself he’ll wake up after this is all over, _Bilbo-and-The-Battle-of-Five-Armies_ style.

Kaikaina, nearly a head shorter than him and twice as heavy, gives him a hearty, teasing nudge that sends him toppling over to his left with a squawk and a fumbling step. “C’mon, don’t be a baby about it now! This is still a great idea!”

Simmons realigns himself, tugging at the knot at his neck and adjusting it all over again, more out of anxiety than any disfiguration it had endured. “It’s a morally decent idea built on a terrible one,” he grumbles out in response.

Kaikaina does something between a giggle and a chortle, both of which makes some sort of anxious soup twist in Simmons’s stomach and threaten to decorate the bedroom floor of this two-bedroom, two-bathroom, scenic Arizona nightmare, protected by a thin technological barrier reminiscent of the dome shield enhancement predominately used by the freelancers. It wouldn’t be surprising if technology like that was starting to trickle out from the grasp of the military. 

Nevertheless, it’s destined to collapse within a few months, he can bet, with what they’ve seen of the power systems here. Just long enough for some racist hick to move in and...deal with whatever happens there.

Simmons looks out the window to see Grif arriving with the client by craft, landing down across craggy rock on the north side of the house, where the ground hadn’t yet been shredded apart by volcanic activity.

“Sweet, big bro’s here!” Kaikaina cheers, grabbing the yellow blazer she had thrown across a chair and swinging it on. “C’mon nerdbot!”

“Stop calling me that,” Simmons responds with a scowl, picking up the pamphlets. “And spit that gum out, we have to actually look professional if we want to sell this death trap.”

Kaikaina rolls her eyes as they walk into the living room. “Yeesh, after we sell it, maybe we’ll buy you surgery to get that stick out of your ass.”

Simmons rolls up the pamphlets and lightly swats her against the back of the head.

“Ow! You butt!” Kaikaina whisper yelps, elbowing Simmons in the ribs and wiping the smirk off his face just as the front door opens. Both of them straighten up and attempt to put on professional smiles as Grif holds the door for the client.

“-And here we are!” Grif says, meeting Simmons and Kaikaina gaze with wide eyes and a painful grimace of a fake smile, expressing wordlessly what they were in store for as the skinhead stepped in. His file flashes through Simmons’s mind, and for a second the anxiety dims into a familiar, comforting bitterness.

Grif turns back to Mr. Connors with a perfect poker face, gesturing smoothly at the pair in the living room. “I’d like you to meet my associates, Ms. Kaikaina Grif an-”

“Charmed,” Mr. Connors interrupts, clearly more beleaguered by their presence than anything. The sheer distaste for the man’s mere personality cements Simmons’s resolve, and he steps forward with a serene smile.

“Richard Simmons, _sir_ ,” he introduces himself anyway, getting close enough where baldy _has_ to turn and look at him in the face. “And let me tell you, you’re gonna _love_ what we have in store. I know my associate has told you about the _volcanic novelty_ of this location, but I’m just delighted to show you the patio. Spacious, a great view,” Simmons smiles wider, “and _completely_ inflammable. Let’s take a peek, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> Pretend this is a choose your own adventure and the choices are a. they go for the slow burn, sell the house, make the dough, and let this guy deal with the faulty shielding and however that works out, or b. Simmons just shoves this guy off the patio Gene-style


End file.
